


Survival of the Fittest

by ChocolateChipMaster



Series: Dead Man Walking [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Communications Liason Coran, Detective Hunk, Detective Keith (Voltron), Detective Shiro (Voltron), Fantastic Racism, Forensic Scientist Lance, Gen, Horribly Inaccurate Law Proceedings, Horribly Inaccurate Police Investigations, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Kidnapping, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Technical Analyst Pidge, Unit Chief Allura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateChipMaster/pseuds/ChocolateChipMaster
Summary: In the five years it’s been since the Butcher’s fall, Keith has managed to solidify himself into his new role at Altea County Police Department. But he soon comes to realize that the nightmare isn’t quite over yet as people start vanishing without a trace all across the city. And with no leads, no suspects, and no evidence to go off of, Keith scrambles to make headway in what feels like an impossible case.Especially when Shiro becomes one of the victims.Sequel to Dead Man Walking. Updates every other Wednesday!
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Keith & Everyone, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), background Adam/Shiro
Series: Dead Man Walking [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580815
Comments: 38
Kudos: 67





	1. Here We Go Again

**Author's Note:**

> Fully advised, I did a lot of research (again) in preparation for this fic and once again, I could have gotten something horrendously wrong. Consider this an overarching apology if I have. 
> 
> And, none of this is beta-read, so any mistakes you see while reading are on me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“There he is.” 

Shiro gave Keith a sideways look as he pointed out the window of their unmarked car. Across the street, lingering by the mouth of an alleyway, a nervous-looking young man was leaning against the wall, trying his hardest to main as innocuous as possible. Awkwardly, he folded his arms, glancing anxiously up and down the street. 

Keith snorted into his hand. “Real subtle, buddy.” 

“Be nice,” Shiro chided gently. “He’s taking a really big risk by meeting with us.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Keith reached for the car door latch beside him, glancing at Shiro. “I’m gonna go talk to him. I’ll holler if I need backup, okay?” 

“Okay,” Shiro agreed with a smile, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Keith nodded and stepped outside of the car. The spring air danced against his skin as he jogged across the street. The boy’s eyes snapped to him as he approached and he peeled himself off of the wall, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets. He didn’t make a move to meet Keith, which was fine with him as they stood outside of the alleyway. 

“A-Are you the officer I’m-” the boy started but Keith cut across him. 

“Yes, but don’t refer to me like that,” he said. “Try to act natural and stay calm.” He paused as the boy regulated his breathing just for good measure and continued. “You said you had some information for us?” 

“Um...yeah,” the boy’s eyes darted to every person as they meandered by as if one of them was about to pull a gun on him. In his line of work, Keith wasn’t entirely convinced that wouldn’t happen. “What do you want to know?” 

“The drug dealers in this side of Altea County,” Keith lowered his voice to a hiss, barely audible over the hum of the midday crowd. “What do you know about them?” 

The boy licked his lips nervously. “My...my brother is one of them.” 

Keith lifted an eyebrow. “Your brother?” 

The boy nodded. “Yeah. He...um...he talks about it a lot. He has a lot of people coming in and out and supplies them with...whatever they want.” 

“Where does your brother operate out of?” Keith asked. 

“Our apartment. I--I can give you the address-” 

“Please,” Keith fished his notepad out of his pocket. “We’ll get a warrant and put an end to that. If that’s alright with you?” 

“Please,” the boy said, accepting the outstretched pen and paper. He scribbled down an address and handed it back to Keith with a timid smile. Keith nodded, glancing at the paper, reading the address several more times just to memorize it. For good measure, he got the boy’s name and number for a possible follow-up and left, bouncing the new information in his head. 

Keith climbed back into the car, reaching behind him for the seatbelt to buckle himself in. Shiro raised an eyebrow, a silent request for information, and Keith tossed the tiny notepad into his lap. 

“Got an address,” he said. “All we need now is the warrant.” 

“Good work, Keith,” Shiro praised, looking at the name and numbers scribbled onto the paper. “When we get back to the precinct, we gotta make sure this address is genuine.” 

“I think it is,” Keith said, accepting the notepad back from Shiro. 

“We’ll see,” Shiro hummed. He threw the car into drive, pulling out into the street. Around them, Altea County with its lunch rush in full swing buzzed. 

It had been five years since Zarkon’s reign of terror as the Butcher over the city had ended. Keith had spent those years solidifying his place in the police department, busting case after case and spending much of his time undercover. Nothing in his life had felt more right than where he was now - surrounded by friends and family, with the weight of what happened to him behind them. 

Shiro pulled into the precinct lot, parking the car by the back doors. They entered through them, assaulted by a flurry of activity and the stench of week-old coffee. Around them, officers from all walks of life exchanged information or left on patrol, chatter filling the air. Keith felt a smile lift his lips. There was one thing that wouldn’t change and it was the precinct. He remembered being a victim in a seemingly impossible case, here to offer hunches based on his feelings rather than his missing memories and now here he was, five years later, with those demons behind him and his entire life in front of him. 

“I hope the drug bust goes well,” Shiro muttered off-handedly as they made their way to Keith’s desk. “I’m going to go talk to Allura. See if she can get us a warrant ASAP.” 

“If she’s not busy,” Keith muttered, glancing at the door overlooking the entire office space. The words ‘Unit Chief’ were emboldened on them on a plaque. 

“She’ll make the time,” Shiro said confidently. “Don’t forget to check that address.”

“I’ll do that now,” Keith promised. Shiro nodded and waved, making his way to Allura’s office. Keith watched him knock once and then enter before making his way to his own desk. Someone was already there, lounging in his chair with a lollipop stick poking out of her mouth. 

“’Sup, Keith!” Pidge offered him a lazy peace-sign and an equally lazy grin. Her auburn hair was just as messy as normal, honey-brown eyes magnified slightly by her round glasses. “How’d it go? Get lots of drugs?” 

“You know it,” Keith said sarcastically. He shooed her out of his chair, plopping down into it in her place. He shuffled aside a few loose papers, tossing the notepad next to his keyboard and scooting in.

“Get something you gotta check out?” Pidge asked, eagerly leaning over to see the notepad. She crunched down on her lollipop and whistled lowly. “An address? That’s a compliant informant.” 

“His brother was the one operating the drug house,” Keith explained, opening up Google maps to ensure the validity of the address. “He probably wants to try and get his brother out of that lifestyle no matter what it costs.” 

“Poor kid,” Pidge murmured despite the fact that the informant Keith met today could have been at least two years her senior. Keith hummed noncommittally in response, typing in the last of the address and hitting enter. The building that popped up was an apartment complex, the unit in question up on the fifth floor. It was ramshackle and had terrible reviews - practically the prime place to run a drug dealership out of. It reminded Keith of his old complex from what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Got it,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Gonna tell Shiro?” 

“Yeah, when he gets out from talking to Allura.” 

Pidge snorted, tossing her lollipop stick into the trash can by Keith’s desk. “And who knows how long that’ll take.” 

Keith nodded in agreement, tossing the notepad onto a dangerously high stack of papers and stretching lethargically in his chair. His back popped. 

“Keith! Pidge!” 

Both turned at the mention of their names, watching as two familiar figures crossed the room towards them. One had dark brown hair and a lopsided grin, the other had equally brown hair and an orange bandanna wrapped around his forehead, the ends trailing behind him. They were both holding matching coffee cups. 

Pidge’s eyes snapped to the mugs. “Did you just make a new pot?” 

“Yup,” Hunk said with a grin. “If you want some you’re gonna have to hurry.” 

“Be right back!” Pidge practically screeched. She’d barely finished her sentence before she was bolting across the office, nearly halfway to the break room. Lance snorted, shaking his head. 

“Someone should take her coffee privileges away from her,” he commented, taking a loud sip from his own mug. 

“Like you’re much better,” Keith shot back. “What is that, your fourth cup today?” 

“Second,” Lance countered. His eyes narrowed into a glare. “And what do you know about coffee addiction, Mullet? You don’t even like coffee.” 

“Not true,” Hunk offered. “He likes mine.” 

“Yeah, well, everyone likes your coffee.” 

Hunk nodded in humble agreement, taking a sip from his own mug. His attention turned to Keith’s computer screen, taking in the address still emblazoned on the screen. 

“Today go well?” he offered with a knowing grin. 

“Hell yeah it did,” Keith said proudly. “Got an address. Shiro’s trying to get Allura to ask a judge for a warrant so we can search the place. Maybe we can arrest the dealer while we’re at it.” 

“Damn,” Lance whistled under his breath. 

“Good job,” Hunk said. Keith nodded, gaze darting to Pidge as she rejoined the group, nursing a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Her smile was tender as she looked down in the amber-colored liquid. Lance scoffed. 

“Christ, Pidge, how much creamer did you put in that?” he glanced down at his significantly darker coffee. 

“Enough,” Pidge retorted, taking a sip and sighing happily. “Was lucky. Barely managed to not get the garbage at the bottom of the pot.” 

“Who did?” Hunk asked curiously. 

Lance grinned. “I hope it was Slav.” 

“It was Slav,” Pidge confirmed with an equally-devious smirk. “Screamed about all of the realities where he got a heart attack from drinking it or something as he poured it, too.” 

“Do you guys think he can really see all the different realities and outcomes of things?” Hunk asked. 

“Fuck no,” Keith scoffed. “You kidding? I just think he’s got a few screws loose after going undercover in that cult for a few years.” 

“That cult did have a weird obsession with realities,” Lance admitted under his breath. He was silent for a moment, drinking deeply from his mug. Hunk watched him, a proud smile spreading across his face. Then, his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers with extra gusto. 

“I forgot!” he exclaimed. “Paladins is having their frozen yogurt debut today. You guys want to go after work?” Lance instantly drew the mug away from his mouth and swallowed noisily. 

“Duh,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Even if it’s bad?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Dude, it’s _Paladins,”_ Lance said. “Everything they make is incredible. Besides, it’s _frozen yogurt._ There’s no way you can fuck up frozen yogurt.” 

Keith shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had frozen yogurt.” 

Pidge choked on her next swig of coffee. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Nope,” Keith shook his head. 

“Oh my God,” Pidge looked horrified. “We are changing that tonight.” 

Keith, already in too deep to admit that the reason why he’d never had frozen yogurt was because he was lactose intolerant, smiled awkwardly and nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced once more over at Allura’s office. The door was just closing behind Shiro as he made his way across the room towards him. He leaned forward, pressing his palms against the back of Keith's desk, bracing his whole weight against it.

“Allura says it’s a go if we can confirm the address,” he said. “Can we?” 

“Yup,” Keith gestured to the computer screen. “Looks like that kid was telling the truth.” 

“Good,” Shiro said. “Then I’ll go back real quick and let her know.” He made to leave but Pidge stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“We’re going to Paladin’s tonight to try their new frozen yogurt,” she said. “You coming?” 

Shiro glanced at Keith and then back at Pidge. He smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

* * *

Paladin’s Coffee Shop hadn’t changed a bit in the five years it had been since Keith had first started going there. It was a quaint little thing, nestled on a street corner with the name hanging from the building in a casual font. Shiro held open the door for the rest of them and they all trooped in, inhaling the smell of coffee and chattering excitedly. 

The shop proper was even homier. All of the stiff-backed chairs had been replaced with beanbags and couches and there seemed to be no rhyme nor reason to where the tables were placed. The walls were lined with bookshelves - enough so that every patron in there could skim through a book while they enjoyed their coffee and pastries. 

Tonight, the coffee shop was in full swing. Busy and loud, it felt like everyone had shown up to the grand opening of their new line of products. Keith and the others joined the line, eagerly examining the frozen yogurt up for display in its glass containment. After waiting for an excruciatingly long amount of time, they managed to order and snag their usual table by the windows before anyone else took it. Shiro placed their number close to the edge of the table so the barista could see it clearly and smiled over at the group. 

Their frozen yogurt came within a few minutes, the overworked barista giving them all a smile as she gave them their cups. Pidge dug in instantly while Lance starting picking at the abnormal amount of sprinkles he’d ordered on his. Keith picked up a plastic spoon and dug it into the frozen yogurt, trying to ignore the way Shiro’s eyes bore into him, almost judgemental. 

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” he asked finally. Keith gave him a grin that was in no way innocent and lifted the spoonful of strawberry frozen yogurt to his mouth. Shiro sighed exasperatedly. “ _Keith.”_

“Wait, what?” Hunk looked just about ready to snatch Keith’s cup from him. “You are?! Keith, why didn’t you tell us?!” 

Keith shrugged, protecting his cup with his arm as Shiro made to grab it. He put the spoon into his mouth (and _wow,_ frozen yogurt really was good, he could see why the others were so excited about this) and swallowed as obviously as he could. 

“I’m here for a good time, not a long time,” he said. 

Shiro put his head in both hands. “Remind me to get you some medication when we get home for the stomachache you’re going to get.” 

Keith shrugged and ate another bite. “Better text Adam.” 

Shiro pulled out his phone as Lance snickered over his spoon and crunched noisily on his sprinkles. Hunk shook his head ruefully and Pidge offered Keith a not-at-all-subtle high five. Shiro sighed. 

It took several hours for everyone to polish off the last of their frozen yogurt. They stayed at least thirty minutes after they were done, chatting and it was only when Keith’s incoming stomachache had really started to settle in that everyone began to go their separate ways. Goodbyes were exchanged - well wishes for the weekend everyone graciously had off - and everyone went home. 

When Shiro and Keith stumbled through the threshold of their shared apartment, Shiro was half supporting Keith through the stomach-splitting ache he was enduring. Adam was sitting at the kitchen table grading papers, a pre-prepared cup of water and a pill on the table. Black was curled in his lap, purring happily and kneading his shirt. 

“Thanks, Adam,” Shiro murmured with a smile as Keith staggered to the table and downed the pill. 

“No problem,” Adam hummed, underlining a line in an essay, grumbling something about poor grammar under his breath. He glanced at Keith, wincing and pressing his splayed palm to his gut. “Next time maybe don’t have frozen yogurt?” He said it like it was a suggestion, but Keith had known Adam long enough to know that it was practically a demand. 

“I regret nothing,” he retorted. 

“You should,” was Adam’s reply. 

Shiro rolled his eyes at the both of them. “Go lay down, Keith.” 

Keith gave him a weak mock salute in answer and bent down, finally giving the ginger cat meowing at his ankles some attention. Red pressed her head to his hand, body awkwardly slinking as Keith picked her up. He cradled her in his arms and staggered into his room, shutting the door behind him. 

His room was bare and impersonal, much like his old apartment he had five years ago. Very few pictures hung from the walls - a few of him and the others at a zoo, his graduation ceremony where he wore an enormous gown that made him look like he was a part of a church choir and an enormous grin - and his obnoxiously bright red quilt was half-hanging off his bed. His well-loved futon sat by the window, overlooking the fire escape. 

Keith let Red down on his bed to let her curl up on one of his pillows and crossed the room to shut the blinds. He looked out over the city, marveling at how his life here had gone from chaos to peace within a few months before a particularly painful cramp from his stomach reminded him that if he continued to stand he was going to vomit. He shut the blinds and made his way to bed, plopping down onto it with a satisfied groan. Red purred in his ear. 

Keith reached above his head, switching off his lamp and bathing the room in darkness. He could hear the city nightlife bubbling beyond the walls and closed his eyes. The medication was starting to kick in (thank _God)_ and Keith was full and content. And, just as he did every night, he reminded himself that this was exactly where he was meant to be. 

Sleep came easily. 

* * *

The living room light was on. 

It was what had woken Keith as he blinked several times to clear his vision. He was sure he’d shut the door before he’d gone to sleep that night, which meant someone had come in to check on him after he’d fallen asleep and hadn’t shut the door. It was most likely Shiro, made clear from the fact Keith’s shoes had been taken off and he was now swathed in comfy blankets. Red purred in his ear, kneading the pillow next to his. 

Keith groaned, rubbing his eyes in both hands as he cast a glance to the clock on his bedside table. It was just after two in the morning - an ungodly hour to be up on a Saturday. He sat up, throwing his blankets off of him and intending to seriously scold whoever was still awake. He padded across the room, watching someone pace back and forth in the living room. From the broadness of the shadow, Keith assumed it was Shiro. 

He pushed the door open, rubbing one eye. “Shiro, what in the everloving fuck are-” 

Shiro silenced him with one finger held up in his general direction. He was on the phone. Keith’s mouth snapped shut instantly and cool dread began to seep into his gut. Shiro never got calls this late on the weekend. Had something happened back at the precinct? 

“Calm down, Pidge,” Shiro said. “Just--just breathe, okay? Talk me through this. What happened?” 

The dread turned into a hard lump of anxiety in Keith’s gut. _Pidge? Did something happen to her?_

Shiro was silent, nodded along to the chatter on the other end, one arm crossed under his bicep as he listened. When the talking finally stopped, he inhaled slowly through his nose. His skin was a sickly shade of alabaster. It didn’t do well for the apprehension stewing in Keith’s gut. 

“Okay, we’re leaving now to come help,” Shiro promised. “ETA in about...ten minutes? Will that be okay?” He paused, listening to Pidge and nodded solemnly. “Alright. See you soon. Call if you need anything.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call with his thumb. 

Keith released the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “What’s wrong?” 

“Get your shoes on and meet me in the car,” Shiro said. He was looking at Keith but it was like he didn’t really see him - like he was looking _through_ him. 

“Shiro?” Keith said, swallowing. 

“I’ll explain when we get there just...please get ready to go.” 

Keith nodded and backed into his room. He flicked on the lights, hurrying over to his closet to grab a jacket and a pair of sneakers. His head spun as he thumbed over possibilities in his head. Had Pidge’s apartment been robbed? Did she stumble on a body? Was she hurt? 

That last one really didn’t sit well with him and he pulled on his socks inside-out in his haste to shove his feet into his sneakers. 

Shiro was waiting with his keys in hand, spinning the ring around his finger. He looked anxious and perturbed - an expression Keith hadn’t seen on him in years. He resisted the urge to ask once again what had happened and instead followed Shiro out of the apartment. He locked the door behind them and followed Shiro down to the car, practically jogging to keep up with his brisk pace. 

Keith jumped into the passenger’s seat as Shiro turned over the car. Within a few minutes, they were roaring out of the parking lot, heading down the near-empty streets. Shiro was driving at least ten over the speed limit, which was only making the anxiety worse. Shiro never _ever_ broke the speed limit. 

“Everything okay?” Keith asked, unable to stop himself. Shiro pursed his lips and did not answer. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Keith snapped his mouth shut and let the apprehension boil in his gut until he felt sick. 

The normally ten-minute drive to the apartment Pidge shared with her older brother, Matt, was shortened by Shiro’s speeding, but it still felt like an eternity. When they turned the corner to the lot, Keith knew instantly that something was wrong. 

Flashing lights - lit up in colors of red and blue - bathed the side of the apartment. Tennants, both sleepy and wide awake milled around the stairs. Policemen did their best to keep the peace, a few of them charging up and down the stairs to the second story. 

Where _Pidge_ lived. 

Keith barely managed to wait until Shiro had parked the car before he’d thrown the door open and stepped outside. He patted his pocket for his police badge and crossed the lot with Shiro tailing him. He made his way to the stairs but was almost cuffed in the chest by the extended arm of a stern-looking officer. 

“We apologize for the inconvenience, but the second floor is currently off-limits,” she said. Keith flashed his badge at her, glancing at the stairs. His throat felt dry. 

“Detective Kogane,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “What’s going on?” 

The officer’s expression shifted to Keith and Shiro behind him, to the civilians lingering for a scoop as to what was happening, and then back to him. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair and jerked her head towards the stairs. 

“Not here,” she murmured. “People will panic. Just go see for yourselves.” 

The statement didn’t sit well with Keith as Shiro thanked her and brushed past him up the stairs. Keith followed after him, making his way up the stairs and down the familiar path to Pidge’s apartment. The door was wide open, several officers milling about by the door. They made to stop Shiro and Keith as they approached, but Pidge darted out of the door from where she was sitting on the couch facing the door and they quickly gave up. 

“Shiro, Keith-” she gasped. Her eyes were huge and red-rimmed. She was practically in hysterics, her whole body trembling. Keith quickly skimmed her over for any injuries and was relieved to find none. “Oh God, I don’t...I don’t know _where…”_

“Breathe, Pidge,” Shiro sounded a lot calmer than he looked. He escorted her inside of the building, making his way to the couch. He was at least subtle in trying not to look around the place but Keith had less tact. He was instantly looking all over the apartment and…

He didn’t like what he saw. 

The usually somewhat-pristine apartment was in shambles. The kitchen table was missing a chair, the legs of which had been thrown halfway across the apartment. The couch was ripped, sending stuffing spilling all over the carpet. A family portrait of Pidge, Matt, and their parents was lying shattered on the floor. The hallway leading to the bedrooms was equally as destroyed, littered with the rest of the chair and parts of the drywall. 

“Jesus _Christ,”_ he said. Pidge shuddered from where she sat on the practically destroyed couch. “What happened? Were you guys robbed?” Even as the words fell from his lips, he knew that couldn’t possibly be true. He’d seen a lot of robberies and he’d seen a lot of signs of a struggle. This looked far more like the latter than the former. 

“No,” Pidge answered him anyways. “I-I came home and it was just like... _this.”_

“When did you get home?” Shiro’s voice was gentle as he rubbed a hand over Pidge’s back. 

“I-I don’t know? Maybe an hour ago now,” Pidge was staring down at her hands resting between her legs. “I-I went back to the precinct to get some extra work done and didn’t realize how much time had passed. And when I got home, I--I saw that everything was destroyed.” 

Keith’s gaze skimmed over the apartment. Something was missing from this scene - something integral. Something that, by all accounts, should have been there. But it wasn’t. 

The answer hit him a moment later. 

“Pidge?” Keith said, dreading the answer to come. “Where’s Matt?” 

Pidge hunched forward with a high-pitched keen. “I don’t know.” She threw her head forward, into her hands. Her next exhale sounded suspiciously like a sob. “ _I don’t know.”_

Keith met Shiro’s eyes, seeing the horror he was feeling reflected in them. He swallowed thickly, piecing together what kind of horrific scene Pidge must have come home to. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Keith asked. 

“I mean I _don’t know,”_ Pidge stressed. “I came home to...to _this_ and when I called out for Matt he didn’t answer and he wasn’t in the apartment when I looked and I just... _I don’t know where he is!”_ She exhaled again and this time it was definitely a sob that burst from her. Her shoulders trembled. 

Keith swept his gaze over the apartment once more. His stomach twisted into knots. He’d seen this scene before - more times than he could count. Someone had broken into the Holt children’s apartment while Matt was home and attacked him. Matt put up a fight - clearly a fight that he had lost. Keith took little solace in the fact that he could see nor smell any blood in the apartment. With any luck, Matt was still alive. He _had_ to be. 

“Pidge,” he said, feeling bad about asking her so many questions but he was trying to get a clearer picture of the perpetrator’s methods. “Was the door broken when you came in?” 

Pidge shook her head. “No. Everything was fine.” 

“Then how…?” Keith furrowed his brow.

“I don’t know,” Pidge said again. “The window’s open but they think that’s how the attacker got out. Not how they got in.” 

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, turning around and looking at the carnage that used to be a quaint little apartment. He’d spent countless afternoons here on his days off with Pidge and Matt, playing Mario Kart and laughing about nothing and everything. It looked - _felt_ \- so wrong now that something terrible had clearly taken place here. 

Pidge shuddered on the couch. Shiro kept rubbing his hand in a soothing back and forth over her back, trying hard to ignore the state of the area around him. Unable to sit still, Keith excused himself to wander down the hallway and duck into Matt’s bedroom. It was considerably less ransacked. The only sign of damage was Matt’s desk that had been completely snapped in half. Keith wandered to it, sticking his head out of the open window Pidge had alluded to. It lead out onto the fire escape, where a series of stairs led all the way down the bottom. It was a perfect escape route. 

Keith cursed under his breath, pulling his head back into the apartment. He stood on his tiptoes, examining the window, eyes narrowing at the latches there. 

One of them was broken. 

He reached out to touch it, then thought better of it and moved his hand away. The lock was half hanging out of the socket, either naturally or wrenched open by some incredible force. Keith hoped for Matt’s sake that it was the former rather than the latter. 

“Keith.” 

Keith turned his head at the mention of his name, watching as Shiro entered the room. His expression was stormy. Keith felt his heart go out to him; he and Matt had been inseparable during their college years. The fact that he was missing was probably eating away at him more than he was letting on. 

“What’s up?” Keith asked, glancing once again at the broken latch. 

“Pidge is probably gonna stay with us for a while,” he said. “Her apartment’s being treated as a crime scene and...I think she needs a friend or two right now.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Keith said. “Is she…?” he trailed off, letting his question hang in the air. 

“Okay?” Shiro finished it for him anyway. “Debatable. But we’re going into the precinct tomorrow and bringing the incident by Allura. See if we can get put on the case.” 

“Yeah,” Keith nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that. Let’s find him.” 

“We will,” Shiro said. His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. “I refuse not to.” 

Keith didn’t reply to that. 

* * *

It took hours for Pidge to finally be cleared. The officers on-scene had a lot of questions - which was natural - and by the time they were done, it was half-past four in the morning. Keith stifled his yawn behind his hand as they drove back to their apartment, Pidge curled in the backseat and Shiro gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were turning white. 

Keith wanted to say something to comfort the both of them but it felt like his entire knowledge of the English language had gotten lodged in his throat. Matt was _missing_ for God’s sake. There wasn’t a lot you could say that would make someone feel better about a loved one vanishing except maybe “hey, we found him, he’s alright, just a bit spooked.” 

Shiro parked the car in the usual spot and they made their way up the four floors into the apartment. It was silent as they came in. Even the cats seemed to be asleep. 

No words were exchanged. Shiro and Keith retrieved a few blankets from the closet for Pidge and situated her on the couch with one of their comfiest pillows. She had a blank, glassy-eyed stare as she accepted one last good-night hug from Shiro and curled up into a ball. Shiro went to bed soon after. Keith lingered at his bedroom door before following suit. 

He peeled his socks and sneakers off, collapsing in his bed. He threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out what little light from the moon that was coming in through his window. He could hear Pidge beyond his closed door crying - horrible sobs she was clearly trying to muffle but only made all the more heart-wrenching. Every instinct in Keith’s body screamed at him to comfort her, but he had no idea what to say. People had never been his strong suit, much less people in distress. 

Keith rolled over, rubbing at his right elbow. The injury had been gone for five long years and it had become more of a nervous habit over time to rub at where it had once been. A terrible feeling was starting to take roost in his gut, the old wound flaring with phantom pain. 

Keith’s unease followed him into his dreams - where he was chased in an alleyway between two bars by a face with a single golden eye. 

When morning came, Keith was groggy and annoyed. He swore under his breath at the sun, sitting up and rubbing the crust from his eyes. He still felt wrong - like he was on the cusp of another terrible event that would shake his very reality to its core but he had no idea when it was going to happen. 

Maybe it already had. 

Shiro drove them to the precinct. Pidge was silent in the backseat, forehead pressed to the window. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Neither Keith nor Shiro commented on it. 

The precinct was busy when they finally arrived. Every officer seemed to be on-duty, looking either stressed or exhausted. They weaved through the crowd, making a beeline straight for Allura’s office. They knocked once and entered, seeing her perched in her enormous office chair, head in her hands and cloud hair falling around her face. Her office was just as bare and impersonal as it had been when Keith had first walked into it, but now it carried a strange sense of nostalgia to it. 

“Allura-” Shiro spoke but Allura shook her head. 

“I know,” she said cutting across him. She looked at Pidge, looking more stressed than Keith had ever seen her. “We’re doing everything we can to find Matt. I promise.” 

“But?” Keith pressed, sensing that she wasn’t done. 

“But…” Allura sank heavily back into her chair. The light caught her face, outlining the dark bags starting to worm their way beneath her kaleidoscope eyes. “He’s not the only one.” 

Pidge choked on nothing. “He’s... _what?!”_

“He’s not the only one,” Allura repeated. “A total of five cases came in last night. All of them were kidnappings. Friends, family, and roommates all gone missing without a trace.” 

“With signs of a struggle?” Keith asked, remembering Pidge’s destroyed apartment. 

“In some cases,” Allura murmured. “In others, nothing was amiss at all. Aside from an open window, there was nothing wrong with the apartment at all.” 

“ _Fuck,”_ Pidge hissed through her teeth. She was wiping furiously at her eyes under her glasses. “Do we have any leads? Clues? _Anything?!”_

“None yet,” Allura said heavily. “But we’re working on it. I expect you three to do your utmost to solve this case as well. This is already shaping to be the biggest serial kidnapping Altea County has ever seen.” 

“We’ll solve this case,” Shiro said, voice steady and sure. “And save every one of the victims so far.” 

Allura set her gaze on him. Her jaw was tight. “I hope so.” 

* * *

“ _How_ many are missing now?!” 

Coran sighed, smoothing his thumb and forefinger over his bright orange mustache. He glanced around his office as if afraid of someone eavesdropping and leaned in. His fingers interlaced. 

“Twenty, my boy,” he told Keith, who was clutching a mug of Hunk’s coffee like it was his lifeline. Beside him, Pidge trembled violently. Shiro kept his hand firmly on her shoulder, trying to calm her. Hunk and Lance both looked as exhausted as everyone else felt. “Another two last night were just confirmed.” 

“Jesus _Christ,”_ Pidge whispered. She pressed her hands to her legs in a vain attempt to stop how badly they were shaking. “ _Twenty fucking people.”_

“That’s insane,” Lance said hoarsely. 

“Don’t we have _anything?”_ Pidge pleaded. “Just...something we can follow up on. _Please.”_

Coran sighed heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose and glancing at the three assembled in front of him. “One. We have one lead.” 

Keith sat up a little straighter. “What is it?” 

“The warehouse at the edge of the city,” Coran said. “People have been hearing more odd noises around it as of late.” 

“Isn’t that place supposedly haunted?” Lance asked. 

“Oh yeah, totally,” Hunk nodded, suddenly looking pale. “My cousin went there once and was dragged by the ankle into the woods by a ghost. He said he only got free because he started screaming for help.” 

Keith couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Ghosts aren’t real, Hunk.” 

“Guys,” Shiro said sharply. Coran nodded gratefully at him as everyone went silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“Many people have been attributing the noises they’ve heard recently less from...the supernatural and more of...human pain,” he said. He leaned back in his chair, bracing his elbows against the armrests. “Keith, Shiro. You’re our undercover detectives. I believe it would be best if one of you were to investigate the area.” 

“I’ll do it,” Shiro said the moment Keith opened his mouth. His gaze shot to Shiro, sitting rigidly in his chair. There was something off in his expression - something that genuinely scared Keith. He was more determined than Keith had ever seen him before. So much so that he’d probably tread into dangerous territory and make mistakes for the sake of the safety of the victims. Keith swallowed thickly. 

“Shiro-” he tried to say but Shiro’s eyes darted to him. They softened a little and he shook his head. 

“Please, Keith,” he murmured. “Let me do this. I have to.” _For Matt_ was left unspoken but the weight of the words hung in the air regardless. Keith swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and he nodded once. 

“Okay,” he acquiesced reluctantly. “Just...be careful, alright?” 

Shiro tried to smile but it wasn’t right. “Always am.” 

Within a day, Shiro was off. He’d been briefed by Allura, outfitted with as many listening devices as they could, and sent off to the warehouse without too much delay. The pressure was on with more and more people vanishing by the day, the precinct had to come up with something. 

Keith spent that night tossing and turning, cuddling both Black and Red to him, both of which who purred away, unaware that anything was amiss. Seemingly oblivious to the unease that churned endlessly in Keith’s gut, they eventually both fell asleep curled into his stomach. 

Shiro didn’t return home that night. 

That wasn’t too surprising - normally missions like these took time and effort but Keith was hoping for at least something. Maybe a little news fed to him from Allura about the situation at the warehouse. 

But there was nothing. 

Keith and Pidge left early that morning, both worried, both with dark bags under their eyes. The sun was barely over the ridge by the time Keith pulled into the parking lot and turned off his car. He wrestled his seatbelt off of him and entered the precinct through the front doors. It already had a few officers milling about, coffee cups overflowing on their desks. Keith skirted around a particularly exhausted-looking pair and lead Pidge to the office in the back. 

Allura was, unsurprisingly, there when they entered her office. She was working when Keith and Pidge came in, fingers a blur on her keyboard. Keith swallowed, rubbing anxiously at his elbow. 

“Allura?” he said as gently as he could manage, trying to cushion the blow of them interrupting her workflow. 

“Yes?” Allura’s tone was crisp. She spared them a glance and then turned back to her screen. 

“We’re here about Shiro and the mission,” Keith dropped his hands to his sides. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. “Is everything okay?” He was expecting to tell how things were going by Allura’s body language. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, either. Maybe for her to groan and place her head in her hands or to smile at him and reassure him that Shiro was still actively talking to her. 

He didn’t expect her to not react. Beyond a twitch of her fingers upon her keyboard, Allura did not outwardly express any emotion. More like...barely confined resignation. 

“Sit down, Keith,” she murmured. “You too, Pidge.” Keith exchanged a glance with Pidge at his side and obeyed. They sank down into the uncomfortable cushions in the stiff-backed chairs in front of Allura’s grand desk and tried to disguise their anxiety as best they could. Keith’s leg started to bounce. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, fingers rubbing circles over his elbow joint. 

“Late last night, Shiro made it to the warehouse,” Allura began. Keith’s stomach started twisting itself into uncomfortable knots. “Everything was fine until his comms started going out.” 

“His comms started going out?” Pidge repeated. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Why didn’t you call me in? I’m our Technical Analyst, I could have-” Allura raised her hand and Pidge snapped her mouth shut. Keith half-reached out to place his hand on her shoulder but knew he wouldn’t be nearly as reassuring as Shiro and then put it back into his lap. 

“Soon after Shiro’s comms started acting up, we lost contact with him entirely,” Allura said gravely. She looked up to meet Keith’s eyes. “His GPS tracker shut off soon after.” 

“Oh no…” Keith felt like a weight was settling over his chest, a fist tightening around his lungs until he couldn’t breathe anymore. “Oh God, _no.”_

“Keith, Shiro’s missing. We have no idea where he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a sequel so here it is! Consider it a Christmas gift from me. Happy Holidays! 
> 
> Next chapter: Keith searches for answers. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come scream at me on my [tumblr!](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)


	2. I See in Your Eyes a Reflection of Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith grimaced, the looming reminder of Shiro’s disappearance and the static in the transmission looming over him. “Things got worse. Shiro’s-” 
> 
> “Missing, I know,” Lance said, equally as grim. “People are freaking out about it. You doin’ okay?” 
> 
> Any other day, Keith would have teased Lance about secretly caring for him (even though both of them knew he did) but he was too emotionally drained. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, fingers snagging on a tangle. 
> 
> “Dunno,” he admitted finally, avoiding Lance’s eyes. “Trying not to think about it.” 

“Missing?! What do you  _ mean  _ he’s missing?!” Keith shot up off his feet, slamming both hands down on Allura’s desk. To her credit, she did not look fazed, only looked up at Keith with an expression that was uncomfortably close to pity. 

“I meant what I said,” Allura said firmly. “I sent out a search party to the warehouse earlier today. There was no sign of Shiro.” 

“And his car?” 

“There, but empty.” 

Keith felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was like waking up in the hospital after his accident all over again with his world crashing in around him. Everything was wildly different. Nothing would be the same after this. Shiro was missing. He’d been his rock for the past five years, working him through the trauma of all that had transpired with Zarkon and now he was  _ gone.  _

Keith’s legs trembled underneath him. He backed up, knees buckling against the chair. He sank into it, wide-eyed and pale. 

“No,” he murmured. 

“Keith-” Allura started. Keith’s head snapped up clutching either side of his arms in some sort of protective self-hug. 

“What can I do?” he interrupted. 

Allura frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“There has to be something I can do,” Keith’s voice was borderline desperate. “Investigate the warehouse. O-Or listen to the last of his transmissions. O-Or...fucking  _ anything  _ I don’t know! I can’t just--” he inhaled sharply, breath stuttering painfully in his throat. “I can’t just do  _ nothing.”  _

“Keith-” Allura tried again. 

“ _ Please,”  _ Keith said. Allura sighed heavily, glancing at Pidge and then back at Keith. She sagged back into her chair, dwarfing her even more than it already was. She sighed, crossing her arms. 

“Pidge, I’ll transfer the last bit of Shiro’s audio to you. You two can listen to it and glean what you can from it,” she said shortly. “Afterwards, you can find Lance and bring him with you to the warehouse. If there’s anything that can be found there, he’ll find it.” 

“Yes--yeah,” Keith said, trying hard not to sound too desperate. “I’ll do that.” 

“ _ But,” _ Allura said sharply. “You may only enter the warehouse or go anywhere near it unless you are  _ certain  _ there is no risk of you ending up the same way as Shiro. I will not lose three of my best in just a few days.” 

“I will,” Keith promised. “Thank you, Allura.” His answer was a tired smile and wave towards the door. Getting the message, Keith and Pidge rose, exiting the room together. For a moment they were silent, lingering in front of the room absently. Keith felt numb, shocked in a way he hadn’t been for five years. 

Shiro was  _ gone.  _

It was a concept that hadn’t occurred to him before. Shiro was always so strong. Strong enough that he always looked - always  _ felt  _ \- untouchable. Like nothing could hurt him. But now, with his disappearance, that illusion had shattered underneath Keith’s feet. Shiro wasn’t invincible and he was gone. 

Pidge reached out beside him, brushing her fingers against his arm. “Keith…” 

Keith shied away from her touch. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Let’s go listen to the audio.” 

Pidge looked at him searchingly, forehead creasing. Keith avoided her gaze, swallowing thickly. Despite knowing that she understood what he was going through better than anyone else, he couldn’t stand to do anything else right now except search for answers. He led the way to the A/V Room, Pidge’s practical home away from home, flicking on the lights as they entered. 

Pidge made a beeline for the computer in the far right corner and sat down, wiggling the mouse to wake it up. She shot Keith another sideways glance out of the corner of her eye but remained silent as she pulled up the audio file she’d been sent. Keith hovered over her shoulder, one hand braced against the back of her chair, the other supporting his body weight against the table. His old injury twinged. 

“Here,” Pidge said, opening the file. She glanced at Keith out of the corner of her eye. “Do you think you can handle this?” 

Keith thought about Matt and Shiro and tightened his grip around the back of her chair. “Yeah.” 

“You sure?” 

Keith glanced at her, peering up at him through the lenses of her glasses. He found it odd that despite her own pain, she was reassuring him. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about Shiro and Matt and what they could have been feeling the moments before they’d been kidnapped. This and the warehouse were the only clues they had. 

“If we don’t listen to it, we won’t have an idea of what happened to him,” Keith kept his voice as even as possible. “Or what happened to Matt.” 

Pidge looked back at the computer. Her fingers were shaking on the keyboard. “Yeah...yeah, you’re right,” she muttered. Her thumb hit the spacebar to play the audio. 

The first few seconds were normal. Keith could hear Shiro’s boots crunching in the grass, the thump of a car door slamming shut. The babble of a distant voice that Keith couldn’t make out but could clearly tell was Coran from the accent. 

“Yeah, just made it,” Shiro said, voice crackling from the poor quality. Keith’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “Everything looks normal so far. Just a really old building is all. We sure this is the right place?” More grass folded noisily under his boots as Keith listened, trying to envision how far Shiro was from the warehouse. A block away maybe? Closer, but not close enough to be obvious? 

There was a crackling response from Coran. Shiro snorted. 

“If you say so,” he murmured and kept moving. 

The audio proceeded normally, with Shiro walking along and making offhand comments to Coran every-so-often. Nothing of utmost importance stood out to Keith at least until Pidge pulled up the waveform. 

“Wait-” Pidge narrowed her eyes, moving the mouse over to point to the last section of the audio. It had peaked, spiking to the top of the wavelength and staying there until the end of the file. “What happened here?” 

“Skip to it,” Keith said urgently. Pidge obeyed and a second later had to clap her hands to her ears at the interference that suddenly blasted through the speakers. 

“Jesus-” she said, reaching for the volume and turning it down. “What the fuck?” 

Keith leaned forward, trying to make out Shiro’s voice amongst all the static. He could still bits and pieces of his voice, tone a little bit more urgent. Then, abruptly, the audio ended at the crescendo of the static, leaving nothing but a suffocating silence in its wake. Keith’s ears were ringing. 

Pidge spoke first. “What was that?” 

Keith wished he could reply. There were far too many questions that he had no answers to. What had Shiro encountered? What was at that warehouse that made their advanced comms system screw up so badly? Everything felt was fine up until a certain point - the point where Shiro had undoubtedly started to approach the warehouse. 

He finally found the strength to speak. “I have no idea. But whatever it is, it has to do with that warehouse.” 

Pidge swiveled around in her chair to look at him. “We have to figure out what’s in there.” 

Keith leaned back to stand squarely on his feet. The desk had worn a red groove into the skin of his palm. “I’ll go see if Lance is still here.” 

“Take an extra comm set with you,” Pidge started digging around in the pockets of her hoodie. Loose wires and machine parts spilled out of the sides. After a few moments, she handed him a tiny earpiece. “Keep a channel open with me. I want to run an experiment.” 

Keith nodded. “Right.” 

“Let me know when you get there,” Pidge popped a comm of her own into her ear. “In the meantime, I’m gonna see if I can figure out what Shiro was saying through all of this static. There has to be something I can do here…” the last comment was more to herself than anything as Keith made for the door. He glanced one more time over his shoulder to watch as Pidge leaned forward, listening intently as static started to blast through the speakers. He silently wished her luck before leaving, shutting the door behind him. 

His footsteps echoed as he walked back down the hallway. The chaos of the precinct was more pronounced - Keith could see several officers heading out on patrols, exchanging bleak looks as they did so, catching Lance’s dark brown hair amongst the sea of blue uniforms trying to wrestle his way into the break room. 

“Lance!” he called. 

Lance turned around, expression lighting up and then furrowing at the sight of him. He pushed his way through the people to join him. 

“Mullet?” he called, meeting him halfway. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Keith grimaced, the looming reminder of Shiro’s disappearance and the static in the transmission looming over him. “Things got worse. Shiro’s-” 

“Missing, I know,” Lance said, equally as grim. “People are freaking out about it. You doin’ okay?” 

Any other day, Keith would have teased Lance about secretly caring for him (even though both of them knew he did) but he was too emotionally drained. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair, fingers snagging on a tangle. 

“Dunno,” he admitted finally, avoiding Lance’s eyes. “Trying not to think about it.” 

Lance’s expression softened. “We’ll find him.” 

“We’d better,” Keith said wearily. 

“Do we have any leads?” Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning all his weight on his right leg. Keith nodded, mimicking the stance. 

“Still the warehouse,” he said. “In Shiro’s last audio exchange with Coran and Allura, static starts to break apart what he’s saying the moment he gets close to it. I got permission from Allura to go see what’s up-” 

“And you want me to go?” Lance finished, eyebrow raised. 

“If you have the time to spare,” Keith said. “She also said we can’t enter unless we  _ know  _ it’s safe-” 

“Is anything safe in our line of work?” asked Lance, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, no, but-” 

“Then let’s get in there and figure out some shit,” Lance said. “I’m gonna go grab my jacket. Go get your keys and meet me in the parking lot.” He tapped two fingers against the side of his forehead and turned to go. Keith watched him head off, stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots. 

His keys, already heavy in his pocket since he hadn’t been to his desk all day, jingled in his pocket as he made his way to the parking lot. He unlocked the car as he approached, leaning against it and skimming his fingers against the side. He was trying hard not to think about Shiro and what he’d have to tell Adam when he got home that night but found it hard not to. He hadn’t felt apprehension like this since Zarkon was still terrorizing the county. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were about to plunge headfirst into the same kind of fear. 

He wondered where Shiro was. If he was okay or if he’d been injured. What if he was sitting there, waiting for a rescue he was unsure of ever coming? What kind of person had kidnapped him to begin with? Just like five years ago, there were far more questions than there were answers. 

“Hey.” 

Keith looked up, startled as Lance circled around the side of his truck. He hadn’t even heard him approach. 

Lance tugged on the door latch with what he must have thought was a wry grin but it looked more like a grimace than anything. “Mind unlocking the door?” 

“Yeah,” Keith fumbled to stick the key into the lock and turn it. “Sorry.” 

“All good,” Lance plopped himself into the passenger’s seat, tossing a pair of gloves and a white Tyvek Suit into the backseat. “You ready?” 

Keith shrugged, putting the key in the ignition and letting his car purr to life. “As I’ll ever be.” As he pulled out of his parking spot, a sudden thought occurred to him. “Do you know where the warehouse is?” he asked, craning his neck to watch the cars cruising past him on the main road. 

“Did you seriously leave the precinct without knowing where you were going?” Lance raised an eyebrow. 

“In my defense, I didn’t think about it until now.” 

Lance sighed, muttering something that sounded like ‘classic Mullet’ under his breath and pulled his phone out of the pockets. A few minutes of silence followed as Lance hunted down the address and Keith joined the traffic on the main road. 

“Here we go,” said Lance after several minutes. He lifted his phone. “You’re gonna want to take a right on Luxite Avenue up here and then just go straight for a bit. I’ll tell you when to turn.” 

Keith grunted to show he’d heard and obeyed. An uncomfortable silence lapsed between them. Despite being close enough to be brothers, Lance and Keith never spent too much time alone together lest they start to argue. Most of the time Shiro was there to step between them and keep the peace but…

Shiro wasn’t there to do it anymore. 

A hard lump rose in Keith’s throat and he swallowed hard to get rid of it. Beside him, Lance leaned over to fiddle with the radio, scanning through the channels quick as lightning. Keith reasoned he was probably looking for some terrible pop song only he and Coran enjoyed and let him, but it didn’t take long for the constant cycling of the channels to start annoying him. It landed on some old country rock station and as Lance leaned forward to change the channel again, Keith swatted his hand away from the dial. 

“Cut it out,” he snapped. 

“Okay, okay, jeez…” Lance grumbled, rubbing the back of his hand. “Jesus, Mullet, you hit  _ hard.”  _

“Sorry,” Keith said even if he didn’t really mean it. “You were making it hard to think.” 

“You sure you don’t have a hidden love for country-rock?” 

Keith turned his head to scowl at Lance for a split second and then instantly snapped his attention back to the road. “Fuck off.” 

Lance grinned impishly but didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned his elbow against the door, plopping his chin in his hand and watching the landscape as it whizzed by. He kept an eye on the map as he did so, allowing Keith to focus on the road. But as the music and the monotonous driving faded into background noise, he found his thoughts drifting all the way back to Shiro. That traitorous lump started biting at his throat again. 

There was no denying it - the person behind Matt’s kidnapping had to have been behind Shiro’s as well. It was too coincidental to be true which meant that the situations were the same and just as dire as before. No leads, no suspects, nothing. That made the situation just as hopeless. They might not even find anything at the warehouse. Whatever was there might have been picked clean already. Then they’d just be back at square one and missing one of their best detectives. 

God, what if Shiro was already  _ dead- _

“Hey,” Lance leaned over and nudged him. Keith looked at him, startled, easing the iron-tight grip he didn’t realize he’d had on the wheel. 

“Hm?” Keith grunted, unable to trust his voice enough to speak. 

“Ever been to the warehouse before?” Lance asked. For a moment, Keith stared at him, wondering what brought this conversation starter on, but it wasn’t long before he read the poorly concealed expression on Lance’s face. Concern. He’d probably noticed the way Keith had started to shut down, thinking too hard about what had happened to Shiro. He was trying to distract him, Keith thought, a swell of affection building his chest. Lance always was a person who wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“No,” Keith said. “Never heard of it before either. Shows how much I went out and about the city back when I used to work at the diner. You?” 

“Me neither,” Lance snorted. “You kidding? It’s haunted!” 

Keith almost had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “So you believe Hunk’s story?” 

“Believe it?” Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s  _ happened.  _ Well, not to me. To my cousin. Take a left here at this next intersection.” He added off-handedly, attention turning to the directions on his phone. 

“Okay,” Keith obeyed. He paused and before he could sink back into the depths of his terrifying thoughts, spoke again. “What happened to your cousin?” 

“Oh dude,” Lance straightened up, phone on his leg. “Okay, so my aunt and uncle and their kids were in town to visit me and my family like...six months ago? Five, I think?” 

“I remember,” Keith said, recalling the week Lance had been out to spend time with family. 

“Yeah, so, like...the third day there were there, my brother convinced my cousin to check out the warehouse,” Lance continued eagerly. “But not in the middle of the day, no. At  _ night.”  _

“Clearly the best time to go check out a creepy warehouse at the edge of town.” 

“Shut up. Anyways so they get there at like eleven-ish and things are pretty normal for a bit,” Lance shrugs. “Like nothing feels off and nothing creepy happens but  _ then…”  _ Lance trailed off for dramatic effect and Keith found himself rolling his eyes. “They start to hear voices. From  _ inside the warehouse.  _ Like whispers loud enough to echo, urgent enough to sound like they’re having a debate or a fight or something.” 

“Probably some loiterers,” Keith said reasonably. 

“Yeah but here’s the thing,” Lance said. “And my brother  _ and  _ my cousin swear this on their graves - take a right on this road here, by the way - there was a padlock on the front door. Locking it from the  _ outside.  _ And the back door was locked too!”  __

“And the windows?” 

“All broken and shit but boarded up with wood.” 

“Lights?” 

“I don’t think that place had electricity.” 

“Uh-huh,” Keith turned the car onto the specified road. The city was starting to get more sparse. This was far more rural feeling, with more homes littered with discarded bicycles and knick-knacks, chalk coating the sidewalks. 

“So my cousin calls out, thinking the same thing as you, probably just some dumb kids and the voices  _ stop.”  _ He turned to Keith, clearly expecting some huge reaction out of him but Keith could only blink and hum to show he was listening. Lance continued regardless. “So my cousin gets my brother to lift him onto his shoulders so the two of them can see in through the cracks in the boards at one of the windows and when they look inside...they don’t see anything. Nada. Zilch.  _ Nothing.”  _

“Wait, where did the people inside go?” Keith asked, blinking in surprise. 

“That’s the thing!” Lance hissed. “They don’t know! They checked every window the two of them could reach and see through and they couldn’t see anyone!” 

“Maybe they had a way out that doesn’t include either of the doors,” Keith said, trying to think rationally, frowning. 

“Yeah, but that’s the boring answer. What if it was…?” Lance raised his voice an octave, wiggling his fingers dramatically and clearly waiting for Keith to finish the sentence. 

“Ghosts?” he supplied with an eyebrow raised. 

“Exactly!” Lance said triumphantly. 

“Not likely.” 

“You’re not likely,” Lance retorted, looking down at his phone. “Turn onto the road right here on your left.” 

Keith did as he was told, the car rumbling onto a dirt road. Grass fields were on either side of them and in the distance, Keith could see the warehouse looming. The closer they got he had to duck his head to keep its entirety in his line of sight. Decrepit and old, a lot of the windows were shattered and boarded up messily with rotting woods planks. Old maroon paint was covering it, most of it flaked off and the color dulled to the point where it resembled rust. 

A few yards from the warehouse, a familiar car was sitting. Untouched and with one set of tires in the grass, Shiro’s car was unmistakable in the afternoon sun. Keith turned to park behind it. The uncomfortable lump was back in his throat. 

Lance looked equally as pale as he unclipped his seatbelt and reached into the backseat for his gloves and suit. Keith pulled a spare pair of rubber gloves from the glovebox and stepped out of the car, hands in his jacket pockets and fingers curled tightly around the plastic packaging. Lance circled around from behind, Tyvek suit already on and a single strand of brown hair plastered to his forehead. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah just--” Keith dug into his pocket for the earpiece Pidge had given him. “Pidge wanted to check something, hang on…” he stuck it in his ear, waiting until it turned on and then called out. “Pidge?” For a moment there was nothing but static followed by a shuffling noise and then-

“Keith?” Pidge asked. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Keith said, listening to the clicking of the keyboard in the background. “We’re at the warehouse, what do you need me to do?” 

“First things first, is it safe? Do you see anyone around?” Pidge asked. Keith peered around him, hands in his pockets and shrugged. 

“Don’t see anyone aside from Lance and me,” he reported. 

“Okay, good,” Pidge did very poorly to hide the relief in her voice. “Now just walk towards the warehouse. I got a theory, just need someone to confirm it.” 

“Okay,” Keith motioned to Lance (who lifted an eyebrow, clearly expecting answers) and the two of them began heading over to the warehouse. The closer they got, the more the awful feeling festering in Keith’s stomach began to grow. He wondered if this kind of apprehension was what Shiro was feeling when he was here or if he was unconcerned and almost eager for what he might find. 

Pidge spoke in his ear. “How close are-” she never got to finish her sentence as her voice broke apart, fracturing until her voice went completely silent. Keith froze, lifting a hand to his ear. 

“Pidge?” he called. “Pidge, you there?” 

Lance frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

Keith held up a finger in his direction. “Pidge? Can you hear me?” There was no response. Keith frowned, glancing up at the warehouse, catching sight of the sleek silver satellite perched on top. Unlike everything else, it seemed new - a few months old at the very least. 

_ What if…?  _

Keith started to back away from the warehouse, making his way back to the cars parked on the side of the road. Slowly but surely, his comm came back to life with the telltale sounds of Pidge’s panicked voice on the other end. 

“Keith? Keith are you there?  _ Keith?”  _

“I’m here,” Keith said. 

“Thank God, I thought something had happened…” Pidge released an audible sigh of relief, pausing for a moment. Keith imagined her stretching her fingers, almost catlike across her keyboard. “But I guess this is a little confirmation on-” 

“Pidge,” Keith interrupted, sticking his hands in his pockets, staring directly up at the satellite. “I think I know what’s going on.” 

“Then are we thinking along the same lines?” Pidge asked. 

“Probably,” Keith frowned. “There’s a satellite at the top of the warehouse. It might be tuned to a frequency that’s interfering with our comms.” 

Pidge made a noise under her breath. Something half-thoughtful, half-annoyed as her typing resumed. “I’ll look into it,” was her only response. 

“Okay,” Keith said, reaching for the comm in his ear. “Lance and I’ll head into the warehouse now. Place looks abandoned so don’t worry.” 

“Okay,” Pidge said. After another brief pause followed before she sighed heavily. “Be careful.” 

“I will,” Keith promised and pulled the comm out of his ear. He turned it off, plopping it back into his pocket with the package of gloves while Lance eyed him with one hand on his hip. He looked ridiculous in his suit but Keith wisely chose not to mention that as Keith jogged across the grass to rejoin him in front of the warehouse. 

“What was that about?” Lance pressed. 

Keith chewed on his lower lip as they approached the front doors to the warehouse. He pointed up at the satellite and explained the situation as Lance nodded along, forehead creasing in the way it usually did when he was deep in thought. 

“So they  _ were  _ here?” he asked finally when Keith was done. 

“Probably,” Keith said, squatting to observe the doorknobs. Lance hadn’t been kidding about the padlock and key during his story. Only instead of wrapped around chains on the door, both of them were on the ground, the padlock popped open and the chains clinking merrily when Keith moved them aside. “Why else would someone feel the need to broadcast a jamming signal with a satellite at a warehouse everyone’s trying to get torn down?” 

“Yeah,” Lance folded his arms, watching as Keith straightened up and reached to open the door. “Fair enough.” 

The door opened with an ominous creak that made Keith wince. Something stale hung in the air as they entered, a smell Keith couldn’t quite place but could tell was very,  _ very  _ old. The warehouse itself was dusty and old, the concrete under their feet cracked in several places with weeds festering in them. The old wooden tables were starting to rot - one of them was missing a pair of legs and half of it was leaning against the ground. To the left of Keith was a set of stairs made of concrete which gave Keith little relief when the second floor above their heads was made of wood that had seen better days. 

And directly in front of Keith, off-center from the front door…

Lance inhaled sharply. “Well shit.” 

In front of their faces was what appeared to be a stain. A dark red stain about the width of both of Keith’s feet. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. 

Keith’s head spun. “Blood,” he said. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Lance made his way over to it, grimacing. He used his body to hide the stain fully from Keith. He appreciated it, even if he’d never say it out loud. “See if you can find anything else.” 

“Will do,” Keith said. He was frozen for a few more seconds, wondering with a horrible gut feeling if that was  _ Shiro’s  _ blood and if Shiro had made it inside the warehouse same as them. If he’d been assaulted by whoever was inside and taken. God, this warehouse really was confirming his worst fears and then some-

“Keith,” Lance called out. Keith’s eyes snapped to his and Lance’s expression softened a little at the deer-caught-in-headlights look Keith was undoubtedly supporting. “Go on. I can handle it.” He smiled a little, trying to be reassuring and Keith stamped down the unease threatening to throttle him and nodded. He forced his feet to move, making his way to the stairs and climbing them one at a time. 

The second floor wasn’t nearly as unremarkable as the bottom. The wood looked rickety; like it wouldn’t take too much to splinter the entire floor, but that wasn’t what caught Keith’s attention. It smelled distinctively sweet - a smell Keith had been warned in his time at the Police Academy about but never smelled personally. 

_ Chloroform.  _

Instantly, Keith pulled his shirt up over his nose, unsure if despite it only hanging in the air and not actively pressing itself into his lungs. He made his way carefully onto the landing, finding the culprit of the smell almost instantly. It was an overturned bottle of chloroform, kicked off to the side in an obvious and poor attempt to hide it. Keith pressed his nose into his shoulder to make sure his sleeve would stay in place and reached into his pocket for the gloves. The package opened noisily and Keith snapped the gloves over his hand and reached out for the bottle. It wasn’t overly heavy and Keith tossed it up into the air and caught it a few times. 

He turned around, making his way to the desk on the far side of the landing, beside a few windows that had been boarded up. The top of the desk had been swept of all items aside from a conspicuously placed cloth that Keith was pretty sure he knew what it was for. He rifled around in the drawers. Most of them were empty like they’d either stayed that way or were cleared in a hurry. And in the bottom drawer…

Keith blanched, reaching inside and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. 

Exactly what this place was had become practically crystal clear. 

“Keith?” Lance was standing at the top of the stairs, clearly too wary to step out onto the landing with him. He was clearly trying to hide the sample of the bloodstain behind his back. “Find anything?” 

“Yeah,” Keith straightened up, showing him the bottle and the handcuffs, straining to keep his shirt over his nose. “Lance I think...I think this is where the victims were taken for a little bit after they were kidnapped. Chloroform, handcuffs and,” his throat tightened, “ _ blood… _ maybe this was a temporary base or just a holding place of sorts, but I definitely think whoever's behind this was using this warehouse.” 

“And Shiro…?” Lance asked. 

“Shiro probably figured out the same,” Keith guessed. “Or maybe he walked in on them and they took him too.” 

“A ‘no witnesses’ thing,” Lance said, expression grim. “Just victims.” 

Keith’s throat felt dry. His hands trembled. “Yeah.” 

Lance swore under his breath. “We should tell Allura. Get this place treated like a crime scene and investigate it.  _ Fully.”  _

“Okay,” Keith said. “Sounds...sounds good.” 

A sick feeling was welling up inside him as he followed Lance back downstairs and into the sunshine. Lance was already digging in his phone to call Allura as Keith cast a glance back at the warehouse - an ominous stain on what should have been a pleasant scene. The site of something terrible - the place Shiro had gone missing. 

Keith could only hope he was okay. 

“I’ll find you,” he said under his breath despite knowing Shiro couldn’t hear him. “I’ll find you and I’ll bring you home. I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Keith and Hunk find new clues. 
> 
> See you then! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Come scream at me on my [tumblr!](https://chocolatechip-master.tumblr.com/)
> 
> UPDATE 10/6/2020: Hey y'all! I know it's been awhile but I absolutely have nOT given up on this fic. I promise you I'll get it done. January was unexpectedly a time of incredibly tough turmoil in my family, followed immediately by the pandemic, and then a job that I hate more than life itself. I've quit though and my last day will be this upcoming Monday. After this, I can finally start focusing my energy back into writing. This fic is far from finished and I promise you it will be. Love you guys, thank you for staying patient! <3


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